


An Imbalance

by Siver



Category: Twin Peaks
Genre: Gen, Post-Canon, Twin Peaks: The Return
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-09
Updated: 2018-09-09
Packaged: 2019-07-10 08:35:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15945671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Siver/pseuds/Siver
Summary: Scales so far out of balance are hard to measure. What's left in the end? An angry introspection of a sort and a faint light of hope for a future where all else is gone.





	An Imbalance

**Author's Note:**

> My first lone contribution to Twin Peaks a year late, but at least I'm not too far off the finale's anniversary.

It rained then, not long ago—it felt like a lifetime—and it rained now. Great drops splattered against the window, distorting the already darkened view. Albert nursed his beer, alone this time where there ought to be a second, a third, maybe even a fourth for company. But no more.

Count your blessings—those were hard to find. Count your wins instead. Count your losses. Measure up. The scales looked pretty damn unbalanced to him.

 

She was Diane, but she wasn't. His grip on his gun had been tight as he fired. Almost steady if not for an uncontrolled tremor. A calm exterior—well nothing said the interior had to match. They’d done it just like that, he and Tammy as if by instinct. A sickening instinct that was never his and his chest burned and it all threatened to cut his breath off. More lies torn away and another old friend gone just like that.

“Wow,” Tammy had said, her awe clear. He could have laughed at the sheer futility of it all if he knew where his voice had gone.

Just. Like. That.

Welcome to Blue Rose. Now’s your chance. Get out while you still can. But, she was stubborn and driven; weren’t they all? He knew she’d learn. He hoped sooner than later.

Welcome to Blue Rose. She got more warning than they ever did. Make good use of it. The ties were unraveling.

He listened to Gordon. Listened to his explanations and reasons he already knew. They had to hold together. There were too many secrets. He listened and avoided looking at the empty chair. They had to hold on.

He understood all right. He understood how fragile and broken everything he’d been holding onto was.

But still he clung. They still had a goal. _He_ still had a goal that held him firm for twenty-five years.

 

Twenty-five god forsaken years. All this time for Cooper to come and to go just as quickly in a magic disappearing act. How’s that for a joke? He hadn’t reacted much. How could he? He’d barely had time to register and accept his presence at last before he swanned off again without so much as a how-do-you-do. A nod of acknowledgement. A look.

And they were left with what? More mysteries and more maybes.

No.

It could have been easy to keep a grip on that long failing shred of what he called hope because habit was too hard to face. Maybe that wasn’t him either. Another double in what he wished was only a fever dream because the world didn’t make a damn ounce of sense these days.

It would be another lie in a foundation of lies and half-truths. It was only a wonder the whole structure hadn’t come crashing down before now.

It was Cooper or whatever was left of him and right then and there, standing in this old building again in this hellhole of a town, he knew he was done burying his head in the sand. He was done with all of this. He was done and the hole ripped wide open in his chest was a wake-up call like no other. He was out.

 

His hand pressed firmly into the folder, his badge, his files, pushed across the desk—a pathetically small stack when held up to the weight of so many years. It was over.

Gordon tried. Of course he did. One doesn’t let go of his weapons after fighting for so long. No, they only go when they’re lost in this fruitless pursuit. Sacrifices for the so-called greater good. They’re not supposed to leave of their own volition.

So he tried. Take a break. We’ll be here for you. Think things over. Bullshit. For the first time in decades Albert finally felt he could see clearly and he saw one thing. An exit.

Don’t do this, Albert. We need you, Albert.

There were three choice words for that—an end and a tribute. Fuck you Gordon.

As he left for the last time it occurred to him that it took him too long to realize not all absences are losses. Maybe his new lack was his new gain. If it’s a hollow victory it’s still more than what he had.

 

Albert knocked back his beer and rose to go. He’d last left with Diane and it hadn’t been the only time. He’d once left this place with Cooper. He might have left again with… And there was a thought. Someone else trapped in the same hole as him.

He swore he’d never return to that town. He would start to worry at his crumbling convictions if he could find it in himself to give a fuck. He’d move the hospital if he could, but he couldn’t and so he made the drive he never wanted to make once more. Maybe for the last time. Maybe not.

Misery loves company and they had that in spades. So he knocked at the hospital ward door, he gripped the handle after a moment's hesitation that went just a little too long, and he entered to find the last bastion of sanity in this fucking mess. His younger self would have had some words at that. He was a fool too.

Harry wore a welcoming smile in a wan face. It was a crack, and Albert found himself sinking into a chair beside his bed and talking in halting steps. He skirted around some details and placed a fine coat of gloss over others. It was an act more for himself. Harry wasn’t an idiot. He knew he would put the pieces together enough for a clear image and he could see him doing so in the low exclamations and worried expressions. Gaps filled in by their surrounding parts.

He hadn’t planned to stay long at all. The man was as much a part of this as any of them and deserved to know what happened; that was all. It seemed the old sheriff was harder to refuse than he remembered.

This was a first step on another long journey. His life was plagued with them. Yet, for what felt like the first time in longer than he cared to contemplate he wasn’t taking these steps alone. The scales started to tip ever so slightly. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.


End file.
